Gravity and FusionFalls
by Tannhaeuser
Summary: Dipper and Mabel's summer is interrupted yet again by a paranormal occurrence. Will Gravity Falls resist the Fusion Invasion? Can a boy and a girl from rival networks find happiness? Are cross-overs really all that bad? Will a certain cartoon network bring back its best game ever now that the Pines are in it? Heck, I dunno. But I had a blast writing this.
1. Chapter 1 - Cartoon Fretwork

**Chapter I.**

_**Cartoon Fretwork**_

An ominous, venomous green suffused the early morning skies, expelling the friendly and familiar stars. The clouds coiled like rattlesnakes, poised to strike the slumbering earth below. A slimy mist swirled down from above, sickly green like the skies, but lit with sparks of lurid red fire. A thousand glowing meteors seemed ready to hurtle down to the unsuspecting town below.

So, pretty much an ordinary day for Gravity Falls.

* * *

><p>Dipper Pines had slumbered badly. The loss of the laptop belonging to the author of his mystery journal had upset him badly, and the knowledge that at least one inter-dimensional demon had an all-seeing eye on him did not make for restful nights. And this particular night was worse: Gravity Falls' local access TV seemed to mock his failure with an all-day cartoon marathon of mystery-solving kids, all of whom seem to have mutant talking pets and rock bands playing insidiously catchy Seventies tunes—the bands, not the pets. The pets seemed to be mostly unmusical, except for the drum-playing killer whale.<p>

And the theme-song of that last show, with the sledge-hammer repetition of the same inane lyrics over and over and over:

Mystery Club!

They're teens who solve mysteries!

Mystery Club!

Find out hidden histories!

Mystery Club!

You'll call them to reveal

Secret riddles for real—

Not like _you_. What's your deal?

_You_ can't beat the

MYSTERYYYY CLUUUUB!

Ugh. What beat you was that stupid song; it was the real mystery club. You know…because you use clubs to beat people with. And they beat you over the head with the premise of the show. In the song. Anyway…

It hadn't helped that Mabel had gotten the tune stuck in her head. All night long, the murmur had come creeping across the room: "Not like you—not like you—solve mysteries—not like you…" Not like Dipper. He can't solve mysteries; he can't find out anything. He can't beat the Mystery Club. He can't even beat a prehistoric lake monster, even when it was just some guy…

"Aw, Dipper, don't, like, take it so hard, man," said Mabel, adjusting her oversized glasses, "That's way too heavy, my brother."

"Aaah! Mabel!" Dipper yelped. "I thought you were—wait, why are you talking that way? And what have you got _on_?" His sister, besides the groovy shades, was sporting funky bellbottom overalls with a shooting star appliqué.

"Not everyone can be in the Mystery Club like me and Waddles."

"Yeah, Dipper baby, only super-hip and happening kids who know where it's at can solve mysteries!" grunted Waddles, his pink cheeks aglow against the contrasting background of a neon-green Afro and poncho. "How you gonna beat a triangle when you're such a square?" Oddly, the with-it pig seemed to be melting into a slimy green puddle, the glowing pink submerging, being overwhelmed by eerily shining, mamba-colored slime. A pair of beady red eyes gleamed balefully up at the boy.

"Oh, silly Waddles, that's the wrong mystery," remarked Mabel, now also glowing bright green, her eyes a flaming scarlet, her face a mouthless mask. She reached out a pair of repulsively long arms toward Dipper. "I'm gonna make you an offer you can't defuse, brother." The slimy limbs coiled around him, and then they were falling, falling, into an immeasurable blackness, as a hateful disembodied voice chanted strange, mystical words, and huge drops of green, red-eyed slime rained down on them from above.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"Dipper…?" Mabel blinked blearily at her brother from across the attic, as Dipper stood up on his bed, his heart performing an extended drum solo in his chest, panting like Grunkle Stan climbing a moderately high stepladder. She was no longer green, and had left the Seventies behind. Waddles lay curled pinkly at her feet, without even a suggestion of an Afro. "What's going on?"

"Mabel," said Dipper, "I've just had a terrible nightmare."

"What? Did you dream that Wendy rejected you again?"

"No… _No!_" Dipper shot back, annoyed. "It was about you and Waddles. You were clue-solving kids in a weird Seventies cartoon!"

"Ohmigosh, Dipper! That wasn't a nightmare," Mabel whispered, "it was a dream come true!"

"Mabel!"

"Oh, come on, Dipper! Haven't you always wanted to be in a cartoon?"

"Ugh, not one of _those_ cartoons! There are always teenagers, and never any adults around to keep them from getting into trouble, and the monster always turns out to some guy trying to scare everyone away, and there's always some sort of chase scene halfway through with a song over it that has, like, nothing to do with what they're doing, and they always catch the bad guy by accident when the talking dog knocks down a chandelier and it lands on him…"

"But that's exactly what makes those shows so real!"

"And then there are always those stupid special guest episodes, where the Mystery Club meets some B-list celebrity like Suzanne Somers or somebody, or they meet some lame superhero like, I dunno, that raccoon one, or the really dumb crossovers where they just meet other cartoons…"

"Are you kidding? Suzanne Somers is amazing! Her thighs are so toned."

"I'm serious, Mabel!"

"Oh, Dipper, what makes you think this dream of yours is upsetting—instead of awesome?"

"Well, for one thing, Waddles melted into a pool of goo, and you turned into a monster with glowing red eyes. Then we all fell into the Bottomless Pit, and a rain of green slime covered Gravity Falls."

"Well, that's gross. That sounds like a _Canadian_ TV show."

Dipper continued, disregarding the interruption, "I think the dream might have been prophetic. Something terrifying is about to happen. Remember what Bill Cipher said about big changes coming to our world?"

"Oh, Dipper, you can't take the word of a horrifying cosmic entity bent on chaos and destruction. He was probably just yanking your chain. Besides, was Bill _in_ your dream?"

"N-no. The dream specifically said it was another mystery, one that I wouldn't be able to 'defuse.' "

"Maybe someone has planted a bomb at the Mystery Shack! Maybe it's set to go off in five minutes, and you have to keep it from blowing up! Just remember, it's always the blue wire you cut, never the red wire! DON'T CUT THE RED WIRE, DIPPER! WHY WOULD YOU CUT THE RED WIRE?"

"I'M NOT CUTTING THE RED WIRE!" Dipper slumped heavily onto the edge of his bed, glaring at his sister, waving his hands before him. "There was no red wire! There wasn't any bomb! What there were, were mysteries to solve and green slime and red-eyed monsters and us falling into a gigantic black hole and… Mabel, why are you and Waddles turning green?"

"Aaaah! I'm not turning green, Dipper—you are!"

"Aaaaah!"

"Aaaaah!"

"Aaaa—oh, wait, it's just the green light coming in through the window.… Wait—why is there green light coming in through the window?"

"It's the bomb! It's about to explode! Aaaaah!"

"Mabel, for the last time, there's no bomb, and there's not going to be any explosions!"

A series of explosions followed, as the glowing green meteors mentioned at the beginning of this story began to slam into selected areas of Gravity Falls. Fragments of earth, cars, and unwary night-crawlers flew through the air. From the meteors there gushed a flood of creatures shaped like giant teardrops, composed of green ooze and red eyes and jagged teeth. Wherever these brutes passed, viscous puddles of venomous viridian slime lay gleaming.

At the same instant, the floor slid away beneath Dipper's and Mabel's beds, and a whirling void of inky emptiness opened beneath them, as a thin, evil voice chanted:

_"__Quis Reticulationem Animationum perdidit? Vilicus Sartor, Vilicus Sartor, Vilicus Sartor!"_

"Mabel! This is it! This is my dream!"

"Diiiippeeeeer! Why couldn't you dream about hot werewolves making out with you, like normal people do? Aaaaah!"

The Pines twins fell into darkness.

* * *

><p>This is the point at which a network such as Disney XD or the Cartoon Network would insert a commercial advertisement. Fortunately, this story is not brought to you with any such venal, and possibly illegal, intent. For that reason I shall merely take the opportunity to recommend to my readers the fine works of fan-authored stories they can find at that fan-fiction site on the net, particularly those by that clever fellow Tannhäuser. I'd also recommend that my readers patronize such fun online games as <em>FusionFall Heroes<em> and _PinesQuest, _and that they watch the entertaining shows that inspired them. Oh, and if they like reading fan-written stories about _Cartoon Network Universe: FusionFall_, they can find a lot of inspiring ideas over at the FusionFall and FanonFall wikis. Just do an on-line search for "FanonFall."

But, of course, since this is not a network, I shall not insert any such thing.


	2. Chapter 2 - Graveyard Shifts

**Chapter II.**

**Graveyard Shifts**

For its 2014 "Nightoween" Halloween event, the programmers of _FusionFall_ had gone to great lengths to create a properly haunted ambiance. The leaves of the trees hung in autumnal scarlet, gold, and brown, and a nice effect sent them skittering along before the feet of players in a little _danse macabre_, as the boughs swayed back and forth in a skillfully animated breeze. Trios of brown bats and an occasional owl passed ghostlike overhead. Within the walls of the Cardboard Castle, a flaming portal to the Nightosphere had sprung up, and the demonic figure of Hunson Abadeer stood there to sell _Adventure Time _Halloween-themed merchandise.

With an astronomical scrupulousness unusual in animation and videogames, the "Nightoween" event did not feature a full moon throughout the month of October. Instead, on the first, a slender silver sickle appeared in a deep violet sky, picked out with a sprinkling of pallid stars.

"Don't gimme that art school crap, man," snapped Rigby, as his blue-jay companion had pointed out the effect to him. They were passing on a regular sweep through the Graveyard, and the nervous raccoon's wide eyes darted from side to side, expecting the white hood of a Spooka or the jagged grin of a Joke-O-Lantern to leap out of every shadow. "All it means is that everything is harder to see … and darker … and creepier … and very, very scary," he ended with a whimper, hugging himself with his Dextronium claws. "Ow!"

"Dude, quit being such a baby," said Mordecai, shouldering his scythe with a scowl, "or I'll partner up with Gumball."

"No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't leave me alone with Marceline!"

"What's wrong with Marceline? She's really cool."

"Are you crazy? She's a vampire! And she has, like, that bat head! I bet she's just waiting to eat our brains!"

"Dude, dude — be realistic. That's zombies. Not vampires. Besides, you haven't got a brain for her to eat. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Rrrrrr, _you_ haven't got a brain to eat, you dog-licker!"

"_You're_ the dog-licker!"

"No, _you_ are!"

"_You _are!"

"_You!_"

"_You!_"

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

A shower of flaming pumpkin-heads rained down upon them as they grappled. "Yeeoww!" yelped Mordecai, and Rigby screeched, "Oh, come on!" Together they mowed through the rank of mummy-like Pharoah Creeps and the ghost-faced Spookas, as the heads of the Joke-O-Lanterns exploded all around them. One of the squash-headed monsters, towering over the rest — a Jerk-O-Lantern — lurched out of the darkness, clawing.

"Yer killin' me!" shrieked Rigby, collapsing to the ground. He lay still.

"RIG-BYYYY!" Mordecai launched himself toward the yew-shaded grave on which Rigby lay outstretched. From the shadows around him a cloud of pipistrelles, the Stun attack of a Batty Bloodsucker, enveloped the unwary jay as he knelt by his friend's body.

"Dude…fading…" he muttered dully, as his eyes rolled back in his head.

* * *

><p>"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…" moaned Mordecai, as he woke up under a black-needled cypress in a quiet corner of the graveyard. He blinked a few times, then glanced over to see Rigby seated with his legs splayed, his back propped against a sarcophagus ("F.F., 2007-2013, Gone But Not Forgotten"), and a trail of drool running down his chin. He staggered to his feet, stumbled over, and shook his raccoon friend.<p>

"Dude… dyuuuuuude… get up. We gotta go help Gumball and Marceline."

"Aw, do I have to? I HATE dying."

Mordecai grinned, ruefully and maliciously. "Well, you oughta be used to it by now. You've died — what? About a million times? Because you suck at fighting."

"STOP TALKING!"

"You're just lucky we've got Death on our side."

"It's not Death — it's Grim."

"Dude, Grim _is_ Death."

"No, Death is Thomas's dad. Not like Thomas from the Park, I mean. Thomas from Death.''

"Man, I know which Thomas you mean — and I don't mean that Grim is 'Death,' I mean he's Death."

"I thought Death was Death."

" 'Death' _is_ Death, but Grim is Death, too."

"I thought Grim was Grim."

" 'Grim' _is_ 'Grim,' but 'Grim' is Death, too."

"IIII seeee. Then is Death Grim, too?"

"No, 'Death' is 'Death' — I mean, he's pretty grim, but he's not 'Grim.'"

"You think Grim is pretty?"

"No, I think 'Death' is pretty grim."

"You think _Death_ is pretty?'

"NO! Uggghhh, just drop it, okay?"

"Whatever," Rigby grumbled. "I'm not the one who has a bone for Death. … OWW!" he whined, rubbing his arm where Mordecai had punched him. "Anyway, I don't wanna die again. What if I died so much that I died from it?"

"Well, that's what I'm sayin'. Nobody can really die around here as long as De— I mean, as long as Grim is on our side."

"Yeah, well, what about _that_ guy?" asked Rigby, pointing upward to the corpse of a boy of about fifteen lying stretched out on the marble slab of the tomb he was resting against.

"AAAAUUUGGGGHHHH!" screamed Mordecai.

"AAAAUUUGGGGHHHH!" screamed Rigby.

"AAAAUUUGGGGHHHH!" screamed Mordecai and Rigby together.

"No! _No!_ Get a grip, Rigby." Mordecai leaned against the trunk of the dark cypress and forced himself to be calm. "We need to figure out who this guy is, and why he's wasn't resurrected, and what to do about it."

"How?"

"We'll have to examine the body."

"Dude! That's an actual dead kid you're messing with."

"Come on, man. You see dead kids flopping down all the time."

"Yeah, but…" Rigby looked up at his blue jay companion, his eyes big and dark, "…but then I know that the kids are gonna be all right. This…this is just…." He trailed off, looking away.

"I know… I know," murmured Mordecai, patting his friend's shoulder, "but this is gonna be all right, too, Rigby. We'll _make_ it all right. Okay?"

"Okay," said Rigby in a tiny voice.

"Good. Now man up, and let's take a look at this little guy."

Like the hero of Longfellow's "Excelsior!", "lifeless, but beau—" well, no, not exactly beautiful he lay, but lovable, somehow; pale as wax, with a mop of tousled brown hair and a strangely eager, intense face; his eyes, though closed, were large and rather prominent. His form was slight, with arms and legs like over-boiled linguini, miles too long for his worn T-shirt and vest and little boy shorts. He bore no banner with a strange device, but there was the emblem of a pine-tree on the baseball hat lying beneath his head.

"Okay," said Mordecai, folding his arms and pinching his chin analytically, "he's in, like, hiking clothes, and his hat has a pine tree on it. I bet he was at some kind of summer camp."

"Maybe his name is just 'Pinetree.' "

"Dude, be serious!" Mordecai rolled his eyes. "Now, it can't be Camp Kidney, because they have a uniform, and, except for the hat, these are just clothes. But I don't know of any other camps around Cartoon Network."

"Maybe he's not from around Cartoon Network. In fact, maybe he's from a completely different dimension!"

"What?"

"Ye-ah—and that's why he's still dead! He never saw Grim, and Grim wasn't able to set him up for the Resurrect 'Ems!"

"That's…actually a really good idea. Rigby, you're a genius!"

"Yeeeah I am."

"Hm, hm, hm. Then all we need to do is get him to the nearest Resurrect 'Em, and he'll be all right!"

Just then a shaft of light pierced the darkness, flickered, and was gone. A small blue cat sat blinking in its place. "What just happened?" he inquired, plaintively.

"You just got totally keeeyulled," jeered Rigby.

"Graveworm?" asked Mordecai., sympathetically. Gumball nodded.

"You know it. Hey, who's that guy?"

"Man, I **hate** that thing."

"So you killed him?!"

"No, Graveworm."

"Graveworm killed him? Why is he still dead? And what's with those little shorts?"

"No, I _hate_ Graveworm."

"Because Graveworm killed him?"

"We don't know what killed him."

"What's with the shorts?"

"We think he's from another dimension."

"That's why he wasn't raised. Grim never hooked him up with the Resurrect 'Ems."

"Yeah, but what's with the shorts?"

"We need to get him to a Resurrect 'Em right away."

"We think we can still save him."

"Okay…but what's with the shorts?"

"Forget the shorts!"

"Dude…I wish I could. But some things," continued Gumball, sententiously, "just can't be unseen."

A tremendous explosion of green light on the other side of the Graveyard interrupted this idiotic conversation, and one thing that _could_ be Unseen manifested itself around them in the form of ghoulish, girlish laughter.

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Mwa-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!"

"Marceline?" quavered Gumball.

"Score!" replied the cool feminine voice, and a shower of electric sparks rained down from the Vampire Axe that showed itself in midair. "Time to order a new batch of Graveworms, boys." The shadows that hovered over them seemed to bind themselves together into outstretched wings—and suddenly there was only a deathly pale girl with long black hair, lovingly fondling her axe, hovering some three feet off the ground. "You know, fighting all those monsters _by myself_ has worked up an enormous appetite in me. RIGBY," she roared, her face altering to a hideous fang-snouted monstrosity, "GIVE ME YOUR BRAAAAAIN!"

"AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!"

"Relax, man!" Marceline expostulated, laughing and returning to her normal appearance. "I drink red; I don't eat brown raccoon — or blue jay — or blue cat. That's disgusting. Now, if one of you was a red panda, you might be in trouble." She grinned, showing a mouthful of very sharp white teeth, and strummed a savory riff on her bass.

"Marceline… Marceline…" Mordecai broke in. "Listen, listen. We found this kid here, and he's dead. He didn't resurrect like everyone else. But we think if we got him to a Resurrect 'Em, it could fix him up."

"Wha-at? That's weird." The Vampire Queen tilted her head quizzically, gazing at the boy's all-too lifeless body. "Lemme try something." Suddenly, her hand shot skyward; jagged tines of lightning crackled above and around them. The corpse jerked upward, and clambered down like some large, uncoordinated insect from off the marble tomb-top. It plopped feet first onto the ground, its large head lolling horribly, and began shambling marionette-wise toward them, elbows up and hands dangling down, its sneakers making little furrows in the dank cemetery soil.

Gumball, Mordecai, and Rigby stood staring, with eyes as round and wide as six full moons.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Rigby's screech lingered behind him, as the grim iron gate of Eternal Meadows clanged behind him. He was a good three quarters of the way to Genius Grove by the time the sound faded.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Gumball commented, "That is soooooooooo coooooooooooool."

"Yeah, Marceline; that's awesome!" assented Mordecai, "Now you can just walk him to the nearest Resurrect 'Em."

"No, guys — I don't think that'll work in this case. I think he's gonna have to go straight to Grim."

"What? But isn't he on vacation?" protested Gumball, "There's no way you can walk a dead body all the way to Orchid Bay from here."

Mordecai nodded. "I think he's right, Marceline. I mean, I know you can control the undead Fusion Monsters in Eternal Vistas, but there are all those Shocktanglers and Asphalt Thieves and things in between, not to mention the Jetskills and Tentakillers when you get there. They'll tear this poor guy to pieces before he gets halfway — that noodle-body is way too flimsy-looking to stand up to Downtown."

"Calm down, blue boys," Marceline retorted, as her body contorted and swelled again into a monstrous form, resembling more a gigantic death's-head moth than a bat this time. "I'm not going to walk him there. _You _guys can walk. Just in case you didn't remember, some of us can fly." Gathering the now-slumping body in her two lower pairs of appendages, she whirled aloft into the violet sky on her scaly wings. "So long, suckas!"

"Bye, Marceline!" and "So long, Marceline!" shouted the pair to the rising Vampire Moth; Mordecai added, "Let us know how everything turns out!" and Gumball added, "Yeah, especially why he's wearing those shorts!" They watched the winged monstrosity sail over the swaying cypresses and yews, and up, up, up over the mountain ridge that divided the Graveyard from Downtown.

"Well, that's that." Mordecai turned to Gumball, and grinned like one that has set himself a task, and successfully shoved it off onto someone else. "Whaddya say we go find Rigby?"

"Ohhh-kay," said Gumball, doubtfully, as they sauntered down the path toward the iron gate, "but I gotta admit to you, Mordecai — Rigby kinda creeps me out."

"What? _Rigby_ does? Why?"

"Because he doesn't wear any clothes! It's not natural for someone to walk around naked all the time."

"Hm, hm. Well, I don't wear any clothes either. Do I creep you out?"

"Naw, of course not. But you're a _bird_. It would just be silly to expect a bird to wear clothes."

"Yeeeeeeeah it would!" agreed Mordecai, and the pair passed down the way to Genius Grove, roaring with laughter at the rampant absurdity of nudist raccoons.


	3. Chapter 3 - On A Ship To A Void

**Chapter III.**

**On A Ship To A Void**

Mabel found herself spilling down a long, grooved funnel of primal matter, as if the Universal Soul were draining its universal bathtub. The swirling vortex was of an interstellar blackness, yet shimmering with rainbow sparkles, not unlike that of an excessive helping of Smile-Dip. Mabel tried several times to obtain a grip on the funnel's edge with her grappling-hook (which she had conveniently grabbed on first feeling herself slipping into nothingness), but it was no more solid than a fog, a phantom, or one of Grunkle Stan's product guarantees. Occasionally, one of the globby alien tear-drops (re-read Chapter I) leaped toward her out of the folds of the interdimensional cyclone, gibbering and threatening, but she handily splattered it with a well-aimed shot of her hook-gun. She had reduced some hundred of the alien spawns to splash-marks, when she landed on her feet with a breathless "Whhhmpf!" Her surroundings had suddenly assumed solidity. The sky around her had a dark red glow, veined like marble, and the ground beneath her was black and volcanic.

Not half so volcanic, however, as her aroused passions. Standing before her, at the entrance to some sort of high tech military installation, was yet another of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. He was a teen of perhaps some sixteen summers, lithe as a mink and with hair every bit as thick and glistening. He greeted the kids passing into the camp with a sidelong grin, a cocky but friendly manner, and a voice as warm and brown as a cello. Cherubs sang Weber's "_Kommt ein schlanker Bursch_'," and little green hearts (color-coordinated with his letterman sweater) flitted in the air around him. She lifted her fingers, phone-like, to her ear.

"Heart to brain… heart to brain… prepare for action. That is all."

* * *

><p>From behind her, a stream of kids kept appearing out of nothing. They were all in dull gray uniforms. Each stopped by the boy, before proceeding into the camp. There was a little knot of teen boys and girls around him, each seeking to catch his attention. The competition… she would mow them down…<p>

"Welcome to Basic Training," she heard him say — a bit mechanically, as if it were a pre-programmed speech. "All new recruits need to learn some basics. First thing's first. Go find Demongo and learn about the Resurrect 'Ems."

"De-MON-go?" said a red-haired girl with freckles — rather a pretty girl — Mabel hated her instantly, "I thought Grim was supposed to be in charge of the Resurrect 'Ems."

Mabel pushed her way to the front of the group. "Girlfriend," she snapped, one hand on her hip and one extended, "ain't no-one got time for all your questions! You better check that attitude, 'less you wanna see some o' my mad-itude! Now just you step your carrot-topped butt on over to Dermando— "

The red-haired girl (and several others) blanched and stepped back, wide-eyed. "D-demongo," she stammered.

"No," Mabel shot back, "YOU-gonn'-go — you gonn' go right now! And that goes for the rest of you slugs, too!' she said, raking the group with laser eyes. "Go on! Get moving — before Mabel has to open up a can of Whup-Butt on you!" The whole group scurried off like a group of plovers avoiding a crashing wave.

Mabel pivoted toward the now-staring boy in green, with a smile like a sunrise with double rainbows bursting through a storm-cloud. "So, hi, I'm Mabel," she warbled, "Tell me all about yourself — like what kind of books and music and TV you like, your turn-ons and turn-offs, whether you're seeing anyone steady, what you think about relationships with younger and adorable girls… I'm twelve," she continued without a breath, "I just got sucked into a vortex from what I'm pretty sure was another dimension, and I'm spending the summer with my Grunkle Stan, and I have a brother and a pig, and as you can see I'm _delightful_. But enough about me… what's your name, and are you interested in long-term relationships and how many kids would you like to have?"

"I'm — uh — Ben… Ben Tennyson," ventured that young man, inching backward slowly.

" 'Ben Tennyson!' " Mabel cried, "It's like poetry. 'Bennnn…Tennnn-y-son.' It'd be even better if you shortened the last name, and just said 'Ben Ten' — because it would rhyme! See? 'Ben Ten…Ben Ten… Ben Te– ' "

"Uh, yeah — that's what people do call me?" Ben prompted, annoyed. "Because I'm kind of a well-known hero? And I change into ten different aliens…? — That is, I used to, but now…"

"But now you've lost your powers! Ohmigosh, that's so sad! And that's why they've stuck you out here in this prison colony for no-longer-useful-though-still-hot-ex-heroes!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"NO!" Ben exploded. "No, I'm here, because I'm like the most important person in the Rebellion against Fuse! I'm in charge of training new recruits here in the Null Void. Wasn't that all in your orientation packet when you signed up for the war? And where's your uniform?"

"Signed up for the war? Uniform? You talkin' cray-cray, hero-man! Didn't I just say I'm only twelve?"

"Twelve?!" Ben stared at her. "No way! You're way too — wait!" he caught himself, "Did you just say you're from another dimension?"

"A way cooler and _prettier_ dimension."

"Whoa…that's gotta be it. Listen, uh, Mabel," he continued, seriously. "I don't know how you got here, but you've got to leave right away. This dimension you've landed in — it's under attack by an alien overlord called 'Fuse.' He's not only the leader of the Fusion aliens — he actually is part of Planet Fuse, and his aim is to absorb Cartoon Network, and _every other world_ he can find!"

"Oh, no! Those green globby things!"

"The Fusion Spawns? You've seen them?"

"They came out of the meteorites that hit Gravity Falls!"

"Gravity Falls?"

"That's where I'm spending the summer — where my Grunkle Stan lives! My brother and I were woken up by this green glow, and these things began slamming into the ground—"

"The Terrafusers — they're what Fuse uses to spread Fusion matter and monsters…"

Mabel stared at Ben, open-mouthed and horrified.

"Oh, my gosh — Dipper's dream was right! This is _terrible!_ Grunkle Stan and Waddles and Soos and all my friends could be being eaten by aliens — and who knows if they would stop there! They could eat my Mom and Dad and the whole world! And now I've lost Dipper, and I don't even know where I am, and I don't know how to get back, and I don't know what to do if I did, and I've got to do something!" She burst into tears. Ben hugged her silently a few moments as she sobbed. He tried to think.

"Listen, Mabel," he began, coaxingly, after her violent fit had somewhat lessened, "maybe it's not so bad. Other planets have beaten Fuse before. Maybe your people have access to advanced technology…"

"No… we don't have spaceships or jet-packs or death-rays or _anything_…"

"…or maybe some powerful magic — that's beaten Fuse before."

"Oh, yes, that's it!" Mabel glowed. "The journals! My brother Dipper has a journal that's full of magic spells and junk! He'll find a way to beat these alien barf bags! Dipper and I eat slimy monsters for lunch! I mean figuratively, of course — because eating them literally would be really gross."

"That's awesome!" Ben cried. "Then maybe, when you're done, you can share some of your secrets with us, and help Cartoon Network get rid of Fuse, too!"

"Cartoon Network? Am I in a cartoon now?"

"Well, only as much as you ever were," Ben grinned. "That's just the _name_ of this dimension. I wouldn't read much more into it."

"That must be what Dipper's dream meant! He dreamed that we would be part of a cartoon and defuse a mystery! It must have meant we'd come to Cartoon Network to beat Lord Fuse!"

"That's awesome, Mabel. You and your brother could help to save two dimensions. Where is this Dipper? Did he come with you?"

"I — I don't know! I'm not even sure how we got here. There was this voice chanting — then the vortex — we both fell in, I know — but we got separated, and I don't know where Dipper is now."

"And you say you don't know how to get back?" Mabel shook her head. Ben considered, then continued, "I think that as long as you're stuck in this dimension, the best thing you can do is to take the training course, and learn how to defend yourself against the Fusion monsters. We have the Grim Reaper himself on our side, so that'll make it possible for you to cheat death itself as long as you're with us. You're actually kind of lucky to have ended up here — you'll be meeting some of Cartoon Network's greatest heroes."

"Oh, Ben — as if I hadn't already met the greatest when I met you."

Ben Tennyson flushed with pleasure, flattered despite himself. He took Mabel's hand, and, looking into her eyes, said with his most engaging smile, "No, Mabel — the hero is _you_." He straightened up, and pointed to a rocky formation in the middle distance. "That's the Resurrect 'Em up on the top of that hill. Normally, Grim would be there, but he's taking a rest in Orchid Bay right now, so Demongo the Soul Collector is running the show for him right now. Jump up and talk to him to learn more about it."

"Demongo? Is he a gorilla?"

"N-no. Demongo's a demon — but you don't have to worry. He likes to talk big, but he's really kind of wimpy."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Dipper and I eat demons for breakfast!"

"Figuratively, along with the monsters?"

"Figuratively," smiled Mabel, with a shrug and eye-roll, "but the monsters were for lunch!"

* * *

><p>"Hahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! What do you wish of … Demongo — teeeenajahhhh?"<p>

"Teenager?" Mabel frowned. "I'm only twelve — so, technically, I'm not a teenager."

"Ahahahahahahahaaaa! Yes — in your own world, you WERE twelve … but in this … dimension … you ARE a … teeenajahhhhh! Hahahahahahahah!"

"You are such a happy person!" exclaimed Mabel, her eyes traveling up and down the slim form of the Soul Collector, "And you have such a pretty laugh." She sighed. The little hearts in the air were now tongues of blue flame, and the cherubs were singing Puccini's "_Un bel dì_", as she drew close to the tittering demon. "So, what is your policy on romances with mortal girls who are old enough to date now?"

"Hahahahahaha — wait, _what?!_"

"Oh, I know it's hard on Ben — but I'll let him down easy, I promise. I'll even help him to find some other girl — maybe that one red-head."

"Eheheheheheheh," tittered Demongo, nervously, "you are…uh…joking — teeenajahhhh. Eheh…heh…heh…" Demongo waved a tapering, quivering hand at her. Mabel glowed, engulfed in blue incandescence. ("Heh-heh, it tickles," she said.) "Theyah! You are prepayahd for the Resurrect 'Ems, teeen…ajahhhhh! You may now …go!"

"Oh, Demongo — why not face it like the two adults we both are now?" Mabel's eyes glistened, as she whispered. "You've collected _my_ soul."

"No! Nooooooooo! … Aku! My Mastahhhhh!," Demongo shrieked, shrinking back as Mabel took his slim arm in hers, "Take me back to the Pit of Hate! Now! I … beg of thee!" The Soul Collector vanished in a burst of smoke and blue fire.

Mabel sighed. "I suppose it was for the best. I could never have really loved someone who called someone else his 'Master' … and who had flames for hair … and a mask for a face. Poor Demongo!"

* * *

><p>The rest of Mabel's training proceeded without any very remarkable incident. Ben had wanted to equip her with the "Lightning Gun" that was the perquisite of all new recruits, but Mabel had thanked him prettily and chosen to depend instead on her own trusty Grappling Hook gun, taking down some hundreds of Fusion Spawn in very short order. Ben had explained the rewards system briefly, and sent her on to face Fusion Finn, whom she defeated handily enough, though imperiled for a few moments by a cloud of gooey green hearts and cherubs singing "Poor wandering one" from <em>The Pirates of Penzance<em>, and thus gained the Finn Nano (which she spent some time cuddling and poking in the stomach). She next was warped to The Petting Zoo by Rex Salazar (this time the cherubs chose _Carmen_'s Habanera), where she mowed down Jumbo Spawns, Cyber Stingers, Timber Wreckers, and Stalking Arachnids with no great difficulty, and met both Finn (Gershwin's "Summertime") and Lance (I think it was "Sakura, Sakura"). Finally, having gained her Rex and Alien X Nanos, and left (ahem!) a trail of broken hearts behind her, Mabel was dispatched by Computress to Mount Neverest, where, breathless and happy, we shall rejoin her at such time (if any) that our story resumes.

* * *

><p>As ever, the author wishes to express his appreciation to Cartoon Network and Disney, for letting him play around with their intellectual property without reducing him to even greater penury by dint of litigation, and to this site for hosting his insanity. On the other hand, he still wants to give Cartoon Network a boot in the rump for having removed <em>FusionFall<em> from their website. Not that he ever would, but he WANTS to.


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